


princesses and maidens in bars

by whytho



Category: Paranatural (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, can you call this a fairytale au, the dad is turning it into a fairytale au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 10:23:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5782606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whytho/pseuds/whytho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>zoey's favorite bedtime story is also the most fantastical one. </p>
<p>or:</p>
<p>father puckett, the most eloquent of word-trippers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	princesses and maidens in bars

**Author's Note:**

> what is Dad Puckett's name. Zack please tell us. 
> 
> i personally apologize for any grammar mistakes or typos, so. yeah.

Zoey’s favorite bedtime story was one she knew by heart. 

Max always said he hated it, yet whenever Zoey requested it, he could be found loitering around the doorway or whichever room they decided on. Sometimes, every once in awhile, he would sit uncomfortably on the foot of the bed and pretend not to listen. 

Zoey knew he adored it. 

Their father would do the exact opposite: he'd sit himself backwards on a spinny chair, twirl himself around a few times, and kiss Zoey on the forehead for good measure. Then he'd look up to the ceiling- Zoey's ceiling, black and starred, or his own, beige and boring and bland- and begin. 

“It was a dark and stormy night,” her father would start out with. “Well, actually it was about mid-afternoon, but the details aren't particularly important.” 

Zoey used to shriek something about keeping the story accurate, shrill and laughing, until her father tickled her or Max joined her on the bed. Now she stays quiet, because the slightest interruption could tip her father off into a tangent.

“It was a dark and stormy night when a fair young maiden made her way into a lowly tavern. The people serving drinks and the men getting- the drinks. They were getting… the verb form of drinks- all stared at her, some more than other. What was such a fair maiden doing in a lowly, wild tavern?”

Here Zoey always shivered, tucking herself deeper under the covers. Her father may not be a very good storyteller, but he had the voice for it.

“Most people soon forgot their questions, for the maid sat herself down in the corner and said nothing. One gentleman- a peasant in all reality, but so kind and noble he could pass for royalty- could not. He joined the woman in her corner and sat with her, saying nothing, tongue caught in his throat. They spent the evening this way, sitting next to each other without words, until the young woman stood and left.”

Sometimes here, Max would say something about the quality of today's noblemen, if someone on the same level of them couldn't talk around woman. Either Max, or their father with a much nicer version. 

“The man despaired, for the woman seemed kind and beautiful, but he couldn't find in himself the courage to ask for her name. The next day, his thoughts were only of the maiden and his mistake.” 

Max would laugh here, quietly, so only Zoey could hear. It was like a joke between them: the foolishness of the gentleman, so very familiar. 

“That evening, the day after he had lost the beautiful maiden, the young man returned to his tavern in sorrow. He hardly expected to find the woman seated in the corner yet again, hood covering her hair. But he did.

“When the gentleman sat once again at the maiden’s table, he found himself lost for words. His nervousness muted him, apparently. The two sat together in another night of silence, one intoxicated by the others beauty and the other- well, perhaps he would never know how the maiden felt.

“But tonight, the gentleman’s luck changed, for tonight he found his tongue! When the maiden stood, ready to leave, the young peasant leaned forward and asked her for her name.”

After years of this story, the next few lines were the only ones Zoey knew by heart. These lines, though, she could recite in her sleep: they were practically the background music to her life. 

“The woman took his hands into her own, with a smile on her face, and told him her name. And what a name it was! That name, the musical voice, kept the gentleman going for three days, with more energy and gusto than he'd had in his whole life. That was a good thing, too, because he worked at his family’s business, which was in much need of repairs.

What a beautiful name! Still, it could not compare to its owner, and after three days the gentleman found himself wishing to see her again. He returned to the tavern on the third night, the maid’s name on his lips, and saw her again.” 

Max teased her for it, but Zoey got breathless at that part. Seeing someone you had been desperately thinking of, all the way across a crowded room, when you hadn't even known they would be there? That made Zoey’s heart slow. 

Her father paused there, wet his lips, and continued, “When the young man saw the girl across the room, his heart stopped. She was staring into her drink, red hair falling across her shoulders, and… and he hadn't remembered that she looked this happy.

“Their eyes met across the room. The maiden’s eyes smiled as the gentleman walked closer, and when he finally arrived at their table, she said, ‘I thought you might've forgotten me.’

“The young man was in awe. He said something in return, a response that left him rather embarrassed, by the maiden acted as if she found it funny. She laughed, and said something else, and the two talked into the night, about things that hardly mattered. 

“This time, when the maiden stood  
to leave, the gentleman stood with her. They left the tavern together, with no one else in their world, and the pea sent gentleman asked the lady when they would see each other again. 

“She looked at him with laughter in her eyes, and responded, ‘We'll see each other very soon.’” 

Zoey's father would take of his glasses and rub his eyes at that part. He always did. Zoey used to think it was because he couldn't bare to picture the maiden, shining, with happiness clear inside her. Sometimes now she wasn't so sure. 

Zoey’s father would put his glasses back on and continue, “The young woman looked, in that moment, so beautiful the man was shocked speechless again. He could say nothing as she turned and made her way down the road, until she was out of his sight, and he stayed tongue-tied till morning. It was a sight, he was sure, he'd remember for the rest of his days. 

“The peasant-gentleman walked home on air. He heard nothing the next day, not even the announcement that the king- who was old and growing sick- was scouring the kingdom to find a suitable partner for his daughter. The princess, a noble lady with well-sung beauty, hardly left the castle, but she too was travelling the land in search of a match. 

“The young man thought nothing of it. He was but a commoner, hardly suitable for the ruler of the land, and had another woman occupying his thoughts. So when a letter from the palace itself arrived, he was startled. Why would royals- people so high and classy-” their father wiggled his eyebrows here “-write to a peasant?”

“Even if he was a gentleman,” Zoey would say diplomatically. 

“Yes, even if he was a gentleman. 

“The young man opened to the letter up and read, to his astonishment, a invitation from the king to a royal ball! It would be held the following night, to introduce good-hearted, hard working people to the future queen.

“But alas! For the gentleman found that the ball would be held the following night, at exactly the time he would try to see the woman in the tavern. The young man fretted, debating the two choices. He could either see the maiden again, or he could visit the princess- and possibly save his family’s livelihood.

“In the end, the peasant-gentleman decided on both: he would go to the tavern and meet his maiden, then go to the ball. Even if he missed her, he could always leave a note, couldn’t he?”

Father Puckett’s voice grew lower, more ominous. Zoey always knew her father was good at setting the scene. 

“But the young gentleman was wrong, for the fair maiden wasn’t at the tavern when he arrived. He sat at their table for hours, waiting for her to arrive, but she never did. In a last desperate attempt, he left a message for her with the workers at the tavern, and left for the ball.

“His journey to the palace was racked with indecision. Did he make the right choice, leaving behind the maiden to save his family? Would he regret it later? Perhaps the peasant would never know.

“When he arrived at the castle, the young man was quickly swept off his feet. He had never realized people lived in such splendor! Most people in the palace wore beautiful clothes, even the servants, and it was clear they always had enough food. The gentleman- well, it was beginning to become clear that he was only a gentleman through the kindness of his soul and the goodness of his heart. What would a princess do with him?”

Taking in a deep breath, Zoey’s father paused for a second, then smiled down on his children. “I’m gonna take a little break, okay? Can you stay awake while I get my midnight sweet?”

Zoey nodded, Max moving protectively closer to her, and Dad Puckett smoothed her hair out before darting down the stairs. Zoey and Max watched him go, before lying flat on the bed. 

“Hey, Max?” Zoey said. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you think I should stop asking Dad for this one?”

Max was silent for a few seconds, processing, before he sat up and faced Zoey.

“Zoey,” he started, voice low. “If you want to hear something else, then do. It’s- it’s your fairy tale. But if you think you should stop listening to this one because- because it’ll hurt someone, or something dumb like that, then… don’t. I mean- we can handle it.”

Zoey closed her eyes, and slumped her shoulders, and looked very small against blue bed sheets. She nodded, once, then slid all the way down till she was facing the ceiling.

Dad Puckett returned from his break with a red mouth and redder eyes. 

“So!” he exclaimed. “Where did we leave off?”

Zoey looked up at him, and said quietly, “Actually, can you summarize the ending? I’m kinda- I’m a little tired.”

Her father blinked, but masked any surprise well. “Sure, sweetie-plum. We were at… ah. The young man arrived at the castle, and was quickly swept off his feet.

“He ran through the motions in a daze, talking, dancing, yadda yadda yadda. And at the end of the night, while he was still thinking about the fair maiden in the tavern, he was approached by the princess herself. Well, she was wearing a veil and stuff, but you get the general idea. And they began talking, until the gentleman was as comfortable with a princess as he was with a girl in a tavern.”

Max coughed pointedly, nodding at Zoey. She really was tired, almost dozing off against the pillows. Dad Puckett began to talk faster. 

“The next day at the tavern, the peasant was amazed when the princess herself arrived, still covered from head to ankle. He lead her to the corner, where he sat with the other maiden, and she hesitantly lifted her veil. The gentleman was shocked to find that she was the princess. 

“He took her hand, eyes wide, and brought it to his lips. The noble lady laughed, and smiled, and then they went back to her palace and got married.”

Zoey stirred, eyes bleary, and murmured, “What happened after?”

Her father stood and looked down on his children. Brushing a kiss on their heads, he said quietly, “And then the gentleman and the maiden moved to the peasant’s old neighborhood and had a child, Sir Maximusillian, and when a daughter arrived, they were overjoyed, and called her Lady Zosephina.”

Max sighed, and brushed his fingers over the hair on Zoey’s head, and watched their father’s figure lean over the bathroom sink.

**Author's Note:**

> so.... Maximusillian and Zosephiana are meant to be the names Dad Puckett would have picked for his children, because you can't convince me this man would try to name his kids that. also, because zosephina could technically be a nickname for Zoey. if you tried really hard. 
> 
> also! can i tell you how happy i am that the pnat fandom is creating so much new stuff! there's been a new fic like every couple of days, which is really amazing in a sorta small fandom!! so if you're creating this stuff, then that's amazing and I adore you with a good portion of my heart, and if you're reading fics, then you are also amazing and I adore you. I adore all of you.


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